The Raven and The Crow: The Swinging Pendulum
by dimmy52
Summary: The Days of The Cross are looming over an unsuspecting planet Earth. Heaven and Hell will collide, and the ensuing cataclysmic battle will forever scar the ground we walk upon. Only The Titans stand in the way of the Apocalypse, once again.
1. Prologue: The Trilogy

**Prologue part 1: Physics**

_What force, on this plane or the next, has the ability to save someone from the clutches of Death itself? What force, dear viewers, has the ability to rescue the entire planet, nay, the entire Universe from the brink of destruction?_

_The pendulum swings. It always has, and always will. Time continues. There is nothing in this realm or the ones beyond it that could alter such a blunt fact. _

_However, it has other interesting properties. It can slow, distort, but humankind has never been able to manipulate it for their own gains. They never will, for if that day arrives, then our whole planet will fall into the brink of Anarchy and despair._

_There are a certain few, however, that possess a power beyond rational thought. They can control time. They can turn seconds into minutes, hours, or even days. Such a power is inconceivable to an ordinary human being, for if they had access to it, then nothing and no-one can stand in their way to righteousness, or to absolute destruction._

_The only thing constant is the speed of light. Nothing can alter that. But how fast does light travel, when time itself is slowed to such an extent, that light takes an hour, to cover a mere inch in space? The ultimate constant in the universe, and the fastest force, is dependant on time. What if The Flash, the ultimate speedster, was never able to move at such a velocity? What if, he had the ability to slow time? _

_It is said that each living creature has their own personal strand of time, beginning from when they were first created, and finally being severed when they pass on. When any creature breathes their last, time stops for them. It is cut from the other, infinitely woven strings of time, and for an amount of time so small, so immeasurably minute, they stop time. However, to them, that amount of time is eternal._

_Time can never be stopped. To stop time, is to stop life itself. _

The Earthquake struck with an absolutely brutal force, relentless in its destruction, and wrathful in its presence. Civilizations crumbled, cities fell into the dark abyss below. The Earth tore in two, and the Seers of their time called it 'An end of Days.' Ripping through the ground like a demon unleashed, it shook the foundations of Mother Nature herself. Days became shorter and the nights lengthened as it traveled around the world, through the oceans and causing devastating Tsunamis, permanently altering the polar ends of the Earth. From it's origins in modern Northern Macedonia, it spread across Europe like a plague, tearing massive fissures in the ancient ground, uprooting civilizations of old and paving the way for new ones. The Felopians, a nomadic, war-like race directly responsible for the discovery of Sulfur and its combustible properties, disappeared in the proverbial blink of an eye. The Harotians, cultured, civilized people originating from what would be now recognized as Spain and who were responsible for the discovery of the wheel and the written alphabet, were swallowed by Gaia as she opened her jaws across the plains and consumed all. That somber day, the Earth exterminated the knowledge of the ancients. Life would start again, however, and those few who remained would work tirelessly towards rebuilding their homes, their _world, _from scratch. The Earth however is a cruel entity, and from her dark bowels, thirteen servants of Hades sprung loose, and proceeded to wreak havoc upon a world already torn.

**Prologue part 2: Strange Occurrences**

The night was dark, unusually so for the warm months. There was no comforting red glow on the horizon, caused by the ever-present warming sun. It was cold, and the wind pierced Demetrus' skin, chilling him to the bone. He shivered instinctively and turned to his brother Nektarius.

"Aisthanomai kati... kati then einai sosto etho..."

Nektarius turned and met his brother's stare with a silent nod. Something was definitely not right, and he could feel it too.

Demetrus tightened his grip on the hilt of his brilliantly crafted sword. It was of a unique design and shape, and was said to be crafted by the great forger Melanides, who was rumoured to have spent two years creating it, before finally completing his _magnum opus _and crossing the Styx the next 'xymeroma.' It was so strange in its appearance that no suitable scabbard could be found for it, so Demetrus was forced to carry it exposed to the elements around his waist. For something so weightless however, flimsy it most certainly wasn't.

It is also mentioned in whispers that polluted a certain Taverna's air that before Melanides passed on he traveled to many countries in the East, learning new techniques in weapons forging and sword-wielding. But alas, he never adopted an apprentice, so the secrets of the Orient crossed into the afterworld with him. Now, what remains of his magnificent work lay in the hands of Demetrus, a captain in the Hellenic army. It is unknown how a mere soldier came across such an amazing sword, and even some outlandish rumours claim that Demetrus was in fact related to the great forger, who in turn was a descendant of Hephaestus, the God of fire and metal-working.

It is also said that, in an attempt to deny Hades access to such a gifted and talented weaponsmith, Zeus himself rode down on the back of Pegasus and snatched Melanides away from the clutches of the ghosts that were doomed to eternal wandering. Such a story however, is for another time.

Demetrus looked upon the city he resided in and guarded. It was eerily silent, not a sound emanated from its bowels. No lights from a lantern flickered, no tell-tale voices signifying that a few sparse residents may still be awake. The low-slung pristine white buildings that were such a marvel to gaze upon, with their magnificent columns supporting their substantial weight, were nothing more then shadow casters of the night, with the black upon black appearance on the cobblestone road deepening.

He turned back to his brother and began to speak.

"Adelfe, bories na fugies. Ego tha to prosexo."

With a raised eyebrow and a perplexed look the young soldier turned and glanced at the stoic and determined face of his older brother. It wasn't like Demetrus to relieve him from his position two turns of the glass early. Then again, reading his brother's face in order to determine his intentions was an impossible act, and Nektarius had trouble concluding whether or not his brother was joking or being serious. Besides, his bones ached, and his mind pursued sleep with reckless abandon, with only his eyes remaining as a last line of defense. He was tired, and he longed for a good night's sleep. He decided not to press the matter, just in case Demetrus changed his mind. He knew perefectly well however, that once Demetrus decides on something, he can be as stubborn as a mule in sticking by it. With a quick nod and a quiet 'Thank you' he shuffled off to bed, eager to remove the bronze armor and shield he had been forced to bear all morning.

Demetrus kept a silent vigil over the sleeping city. He leant on one knee that was raised upon a small wooden stool, and placed his chin upon it. His rough, unshaven face proved that he had not seen home in days, and a long, thin scar on his left cheek made it clear that he had seen enough action. His eyes, a stone grey, never rested. Only for the briefest moments to blink did he allow his eyes to close. The years he had spent fighting the foreign invaders from the east and the growing threat of the West had honed his skills to a tee, and he could often see what others could not. That is why he was stunned when a razor-sharp leaf slammed into his un-armored shoulder, digging into his skin and causing him excessive pain as blood, his blood, poured out of the gouge and washed the leaf away.

"Gamoto!" He cursed as he covered his shoulder with a gloved hand, attempting to stem the flow of the crimson fluid.

"Ti Sto Diaolo eitan afto?" He asked himself. He had never seen anything like it in his sixteen years of service in the Spartan army.

In the distance, beyond the glow of his lantern, he heard something. A deep growl so low in tone and pitch that it rattled his teeth and caused his lantern to jitter wildly emanated from the darkness beyond his field of vision and gripped his heart in ice. The growl subsided, and a peculiar buzzing din replaced it, growing in intensity.

He squinted his eyes and gazed further into the darkness.

He slumped slightly once he realized what the source of the sound was. "Ochi re gamoto." He cursed again, lifting his heavy bronze shield in an attempt to guard himself from the unknown that was now rapidly speeding towards him.

Through the bleak blackness, a furious cloud of what appeared to be leaves emerged from the darkness and raced towards him with brutal velocity before striking his durable shield with a force that would have snapped an unprotected man in two. He gritted his teeth and dug his right shoulder into the back in order to strengthen his shield, but the onslaught was simply _vicious_, and Demetrus was forced to relieve some of the pressure by stepping backwards and retreating. He took one, two, three steps, unwillingly knocking over his lantern and extinguishing its flame, bathing the whole street in treacherous black.

If this was any other man, the combined fear of darkness and the threat of an unknown, perhaps supernatural enemy, would have easily caused them to turn their tails and flee. Demetrus however, was of Spartan origin, and Spartans _never _give up. This is especially useful in this case, because if he had lowered his shield and attempted to escape, the razor sharp blades would have entered his retreating back and shredded him to pieces in mere seconds.

Instead, Demetrus waited with utmost confidence in the durability of his bronze Hoplon shield, and before long the barrage of green and brown subsided, the leaves that had so ruthlessly been trying to tear him to pieces now lay scattered and broken on the cobblestone street below.

Another growl emanated from the darkened street, making Demetrus' skin crawl and causing him to withdraw his sword that until now had been hanging relatively undisturbed on his side. Instead of the blade being dead straight like ordinary swords of his time, it was thin, light and above all, curved in a slight crescent shape. This feature, along with its other unique properties allowed for the sword to prove itself as a devastating weapon, and giving its possessor an advantage in dueling.

Demetrus held the sword firmly in front of him in his right hand, and his shield on the left, effectively covering most of his body save his head and feet. It was slightly oblong in shape, and extremely sturdy, but also was very heavy, as bronze is not known to be a light metal. One sandaled foot after the other he proceeded down the pitch black road, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness and scanning every corner of the darkened street, but he saw nothing for the moment.

Another growl emerged from the other end of the street, rattling Demetrus' teeth yet again and shaking his ribcage. An ember red glow immediately followed the teeth rattling growl and glimmered at the far reaches of Demetrus' sight. It was extremely faint at first, nothing more then luminosity from a firefly, but it grew steadily brighter, stretching and expanding from its origin until it bathed the street in sinister crimson.

Demetrus noted the sudden expanding light and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword that he held angled towards the now red street.

A final terrifying roar came from the source of the red glow, and the scarlet light began bouncing madly towards Demetrus in what seemed to be a drunken dance, its moves erratic and uncalculated. Demetrus took one look behind him, then turned towards the bouncing red light and dug his sandals into the cracks of the stone.

**Prologue part 3: To Sanctify**

It was an absolutely terrifying creature. It was easily three heads taller then Demetrus, but it hunched forward in an attempt to examine the foolish creature that dared to defy it. Demetrus remained impassive and firm, merely flinching as the creature inhaled and hollered a deafening roar, the air simmering and heating up as it struck his face. It had striking blood red skin that stretched over its impressive frame and four unbelievably long horns protruded from its forehead and curled behind similar to those of a wild yak. Razor-sharp teeth stained yellow littered the inside of its mouth and gums as its lips were curled in a sinister scowl. It had two slits where a nose should have resided, and they expanded and contracted with every intake and exhale of breath. Smoke emerged from its mouth, nostrils and ears, as if a fire was smoldering deep within its bowels, and in its left hand it held an iron sword engulfed in orange and scarlet flames that snapped and crackled as they bounced madly off its blade. It was donned only in a dirty brown cloth that covered its waist and lower body, and a pair of long, jagged, bat-like wings protruded from its back, the skin in between each bony support black, whereas the bone itself in the wings was crimson. Demetrus looked upon this spawn of Hades, his blood running cold at the horrendous sight, but his face was not of terror, but of steel resolve. If he ran, he died. If he fought, he might not die. That was his reasoning, and that is what saved him.

For a creature so large, it moved extremely fast and Demetrus barely had enough time to dodge its fiery blade as it crashed down onto the pavement below, cracking the stone tiles where Demetrus had stood only moments ago.

Barely a second after Demetrus had recovered the creature swung again, the flames that engulfed the blade creating an arc of light as it whistled down towards him. Again Demetrus ducked and rolled, and it landed on the stone below with such force that it sent shockwaves throughout either end of the street.

There was a momentary pause on the Demon's behalf as it attempted to lift its blade, and Demetrus saw this as an opportunity to strike. He reared his armor-clad arm back and brought his curved blade down upon the red flames that covered the Demon's sword and shattered it, its pieces falling to the ground with a clatter, before turning to ash and being swept away by the slight breeze that traveled through the city. The Demon looked at the hilt of its once lethal sword stupidly, and remained motionless for only a split-second.

That delay was all Demetrus needed. He brought his sword back and with a grimace underneath his bronze hoplon helmet slashed the Demon's chest, black blood spewing forth from the newly created wound. Demetrus stumbled back, the sickening black fluid stinging his eyes and face and he brought up his arms to wipe his face clean with his sleeves. The Demon roared in pain and anger as Demetrus desperately wiped his eyes and face clean of the blood.

The Demon's powerful legs compressed and he launched himself into the air at an impossible speed. It reached the peak of its jump and unfolded its wings and thumped the air, black blood now raining from the sky where it remained motionless.

Demetrus, now relatively blood-free, tilted his head towards the sky and a menacing figure filled his view, silhouetted against the full Mediterranean moon.

The shadowed and sleeping city emanated no noise and betrayed no movement and the only sound Demetrus heard was the steady 'Thwump' of the beast's wings as they skillfully stroked the night's air and supported it, and the slight 'pit-pat' of the droplets of black blood as they struck his armor and the cobblestone below.

The Beast struck first. With a final stroke from his wings, it let itself free-fall and it extended its clawed arms as its wings folded behind and underneath its shoulder blades and it roared with a pure, unadulterated animal hatred that stemmed from Hell itself.

Demetrus bent his knees and prepared to leap out of the way again, but before he did so he swung his shield around his body and dropped it roughly in the spot he stood moments ago. He then leapt out of the way, and by the time the beast had realized what Demetrus had done, it was much too late. At the velocity it was traveling, it rammed into the bronze shield with a gut-wrenching 'Clang', snapping it in two and creating a crater in the ground as it slumped motionless.

Silence befell the street once more, and the Demon lay still on the cobblestone road.

Demetrus stood up and approached the massive red figure. He could see by the rapid rising and lowering of its chest that it was still alive, so he reared his sword back to deliver the final blow.

He brought the blade down and it pierced the air like an arrow, before coming into contact with its neck and lopping its head cleanly off.

In the distance, lamps were lit, and curious inhabitants of the once sleeping city emerged from the doors to their homes in order to investigate the foreign sounds. Demetrus stood motionless, his sword hanging limply on his side and his chest rising and falling rapidly. His face was still caked in black blood, and he could taste the bitter liquid.

"Ti egine edo?" Demetrus turned to face his brother, who had just appeared from the darkened street behind him. Nektarius placed a hand on his shoulder, a look of concern washing over his face. He then noticed the massive red mound that lay motionless behind him. His eyes widened tremendously and he gasped silently.

Now, this is an update for my prologue. The next chapter should be up very soon.


	2. Infiltration

**Chapter 1: Infiltration**

"_Hey dude, wassup?"_

_Who was that?_

"_Hey, if you don't have anything on tonight, come to the movies with us."_

_But I… Oh…_

_They're gone. Gone forever…_

"_Mark. No matter what happens at school, just take comfort in knowing this: There is always someone worse off then you."_

_Wise words from Dad._

_And now they're gone… no wait, I'm gone._

Mark opened his eyes slowly and pulled himself away from his eccentric dream. He lay still on his bed as he attempted to contemplate the reason behind the madness he had seen whilst sleeping. Bringing a sweat covered palm to his forehead, Mark desperately tried to hold onto the minute details of his dream, but trying to remember a dream that perhaps did not belong in your sleep was very much likened to holding on to water with cupped hands. The finer details trickled away, until only a small puddle of garbled and meaningless information remained. The only piece of data that seemed to be at least half useful was the colour of a certain being's skin. It was red, like the skies he had fought back so many weeks ago. Red, like the colour of Trigon's skin.

"Ah!" Mark exclaimed as the thought of Raven's father drifted into his head. It happened every time he thought of him. Trigon was the catalyst in causing his head to explode in pain. He stood up and approached his window, one hand still clutching his head while the other fumbled with the latch. After a few moments, he swung his window open and jumped outside. He took a deep breath and floated in the clean night's air, lying on his back atop an imaginary mattress. The fresh air helped ease the pain in his head, and it slowly ebbed away, becoming nothing more then a memory to join his dream.

Mark lay there for a few minutes, admiring the view of the twinkling city lights, when he heard a faint 'whoosh' from beside him. He cocked his head to the left.

"Raven?" He queried the shadows.

"No. It is I, Starfire." The figure replied, and took a place next to Mark.

Mark smiled inwardly. He had never had the chance to get to know Starfire more, so he decided that this was as good a time as any. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't find any words to say.

"Target structure in sight. Awaiting final confirmation."

A figure clad in endless black emerged from the shadowed water that surrounded Titans Tower, its face covered in a Kevlar face mask, the same material that covered and protected his body. The water droplets glistened on his body armour, but so deep was the black that their bouncing, jovial shining beneath the moon was lost on the figure they had emerged with. In his right thigh pocket, a lethal combat knife lay sheathed in its black holster, its silver blade hidden from the treacherous moonlight. Donned on his torso, sealed neatly in waterproof pockets, were countless gadgets, each more sophisticated then the last, and so technologically advanced that Cyborg himself would not have been able to recognize their purpose. One gadget, however, Cyborg, and no doubt the rest of the Titans, would have easily recognized. Resting inconspicuously on the left of his waist was a Magnum Desert Eagle handgun, the holy-grail of action movie fans everywhere. Immortalized in Hollywood in the late 80's to early 90's, it has been widely regarded and recognized as the 'Hero Gun'. It has unbelievable stopping power, each .50 round capable of blowing a hole the size of an average CD, regardless of the surface it impacted. The figure only carried two clips, as he believed that any more would impede and restrict his movement.

"Affirmative. Proceed with objective, but do not, I repeat, DO NOT injure or take the life of a Titan. Do you copy?"

Beneath the Kevlar mask, a weathered, stubble covered chin grinned, his casual disposition directly contradicting the seriousness of the mission he was undertaking.

"Copy that Sir." He replied in a gravely voice that had suffered too many cigarettes through the years. "Requesting permission to return fire if the need should arise."

There was static on the other side of the radio, before a very exasperated voice answered. "Permission granted, but for God's Sakes Hale, do not put me in a position to explain the deaths of Jump City's greatest superheroes! They're kids Dammit!"

More static.

"Proceeding with objective, Hale over and out." Hale disconnected his communicator and crept towards the Tower, his padded boots emitting no sound to betray his presence.

There was an awkward silence, but after a few moments Starfire spoke up again.

"I do not wish to intrude, Crow. If you wish to be alone, then I shall leave."

Mark's eyes widened slightly. Was he really that cold?

"Of course you're not intruding, Star!" Mark said with a casual grin. "I just came out to get some fresh air, clear my thoughts. Oh and, you might as well call me Mark, not Crow."

Starfire visibly brightened after that comment, and she flew around Mark with a smile upon her face.

"It shall be done, Mark!" She said joyously. She once again took a place beside Mark and followed his gaze to the stars and heavens above.

Silence befell them once again, but it awkward it was no longer.

Hale approached the main entrance of the Tower, his hands currently empty and his whole body hunched over in an attempt to hide himself from suspicious eyes, mechanical or otherwise.

He walked cautiously towards the door and stopped short a mere two feet from it. He reached up with his left hand and pressed a small black button on the side of his night-vision goggles. In an instant, instead of viewing his surroundings in a ghostly green glow, the Tower's main door and front garden were now bathed in a dark blue and black, with the occasional red and orange that signaled heat and warmth from the various nocturnal creatures that resided along with the Titans on their island. He turned to face the door, and his body slumped slightly. The door was crisscrossed with red, flickering lines that could only be trip-beams. He lifted his hand and switched back to night-vision goggles. Hale shook his head sadly.

"For a bunch of teenage superheroes, these guys are fairly paranoid." He decided against going through the front, and crept around the building towards the rear, constantly checking for any beams that may have lay in his way.

"Do you miss your home?" Starfire asked absent-mindedly, almost as if she wasn't aware that she had even spoken. Mark turned to face her and smiled slightly.

"I do, Star. How could anyone not?" He replied slowly.

"But what about the poor Earth children who flee from their homes? Surely they do not miss it, if they had fled it in the first place?" Starfire frowned, her full attention now to Mark.

"Star, your home isn't where you were born, or where you were brought up. It's a place that makes you feel accepted as the person you truly are. Kids who run away are simply looking for their true home, and most of the time it's the place they had abandoned in the first place." Mark explained, matching Starfire's gaze.

"But… I've come to realize something. This is my true home, Star. This is where I'm truly accepted for who I am." He continued.

"But what about your parents?" Starfire pressed.

Mark sighed. He was not used to such interrogation, but he felt that he owed the Tamaranean girl an answer.

"I think about them Star, I truly do, and if there was some way to contact them and tell them I'm ok, then well, I'd do it. But right now I can't do anything, except pray."

Mark was slightly shocked with himself. Pray? He had never prayed before in his whole life!

"I see…" Starfire said distractedly, her mind now filling with conflicting thoughts.

She shook her head slightly, her vibrant red hair bobbing to the direction of her movement.

"I was going to say how I…I-."

Mark raised his hand and cut the alien girl off before she had a chance to complete her sentence.

"You were going to say how you missed your home, is that it?"

Starfire nodded sadly, her thoughts once again wandering to images of her K'norfka, and of her lost childhood.

"Star, your home is where you feel most accepted. We as the Titans can't do anything to change the way you feel deep down. Every one of us however, l-." Could he even say that? Loves? "-Regards you as a sister. In the end, however, the ultimate decision is up to you."

Starfire smiled slowly, it was not one of happiness, but one of a bittersweet emotion, the longing of family and of friends, but knowing that she is in such a situation that she could not have both. She had already made her decision, however.

Hale found no alternate way in. Everything was shut tight, and the glass windows were structured in such a way that it was impossible to cut a clean hole without bringing down the whole pane of glass with it. He sighed dejectedly and slowly tilted his head upwards. He hated scaling buildings. Hated it with a passion. He kneeled down and attached a pair of silent suction cups to his boots, and another pair to his gloves. He gave another sigh and shuddered silently. Hale lifted his right hand and placed the pod on the window. With a slight push of a button, the suction mechanism was activated, and with a silent 'hiss', it attached itself to the glass. He pulled down on it firmly, testing its strength, before mimicking the procedure with his other hand. Seeing that they both held firmly, he lifted his leg and placed that pod on the window as well. The suction mechanism activated automatically, and using it as leverage he pulled his whole body up, his forty year old muscles aching in protest as they tensed and bulged beneath his black bodysuit. He lifted his other leg and did the exact same thing, and before long he was scaling the wall with ease. He scaled the wall on its southern side, so he could avoid the hassle of having to go around the large structure that masqueraded as the top of the 'T'.

As he climbed, he couldn't help but peek inside some of the rooms he passed. He gazed inside one and saw a ridiculously clean floor, with the wardrobe slightly ajar, revealing a set of identical clothing. He raised his eyebrow, and his gaze rested on the bed that lay in the centre of the room. It was empty.

Hale swore to himself and hurriedly finished his climbing. There was a flaw in his plan now. He hadn't expected anyone to be awake. He reached the top of the tower and pulled himself over the edge of the roof. As soon as his black boots hit the concrete roof he sprinted towards the air vent that was his next objective. He approached it quickly, eager to get himself out of the bright moonlight, and gently unscrewed it from its base. He gradually eased it out, as it was fairly rusted, and placed it gently on the roof. He activated his thermal goggles once again and gazed down the vent. His scowl quickly turned to a grin at what he saw.

They remained outside for a few more minutes, admiring the view before them, until eventually Mark yawned and bid his goodnight. Starfire seemed almost sad to see him go, but accepted the fact that he was indeed very tired. Mark hovered back to his window and hopped inside, landing roughly on the carpeted floor of his room. He hadn't bothered turning on the light when he left, so he simply fell onto his mattress and dozed off.

Hale lowered the rope gradually down the vent, careful not to make a sound. The tip of his black nylon rope touched the bottom of the vent, and Hale attached the other end firmly to a protruding chimney-like structure. With one final pull to ensure that it was held tight, he removed his unnecessary armor and most of his gadgets, otherwise he simply would not have been able to fit in the vent.

Hand under hand, he proceeded towards the base of the shaft, his gloves never relinquishing their strong grip on the rope, or else he would have been faced with a rather unpleasant two storey drop to the base. His boots touched down lightly on the metallic floor, and he was faced with yet another grille. He withdrew his flexible head screwdriver and slowly stuck it outside. It was robotic, so he only had to guide it to the screw, and it was also equipped with a handy black and white camera for ease of use. He maneuvered the tip of the screwdriver towards the screws that held the grille in place, and started to loosen it, silently humming the tune to 'Bob the Builder' for a reason unbeknownst to him. Another fact that would have benefited him if it were to come to his knowledge was that he was being watched by a being not of this world.

Hale's fingers snaked through the horizontal slits of the grille and he pried it gently of its base. This one was not as rusted as the one he entered through, so it came free with ease. He placed it silently on the floor of the hallway he had emerged in, and holstered his screwdriver. He crouched down and unbuttoned his gun holster, just in case, he thought to himself. He pressed a button on his black helmet and whispered into the miniscule microphone that sat just underneath his mouth.

"I have infiltrated Titan's Tower. Proceeding towards second objective."

There was a slight static, before the same exasperated voice began to speak, equally as softly, even though the receiver was embedded into his ear, ensuing no noise gave away his position.

"Affirmative. Remember, your target, Raven, has an extensive book collection. Make sure you find the _right _one."

Hale couldn't help but smirk again.

"I've been doing this for much longer then you, sir, so trust me when I say I know what I'm doing."

Static.

"Fine. The mission will conclude once you evacuate the building and the island, am I clear? Until then, _we do not know you!_"

"I got it. Hale out."

Hale pressed and depressed the button once again and deactivated the transmitter. He stood up slowly and walked down the pitch-black hallway. He crept past one door, and he noticed a name written on it, at about eye-level. He peered at the name for a few moments. It read: _"Robin"_.

Hale continued to creep down the hallway, passing another two doors, which read _"Cyborg" _and _"Beast-Boy" _respectively. Not the rooms he was looking for. He proceeded forward, until he finally reached a door that seemed visibly darker then all the others. Even Hale's night vision goggles had difficulty trying to shied light on it. Hale narrowed his eyes and peered at the name tag. It read: _"Raven." _He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a small capsule, which was also conveniently colored black. The war against the growing threat of mental weapons has prompted leading Government military agencies to develop radical new ways to combat them. One such creation was the "Brain Activity Zero Action Nullifier." It was a mere small black pill, which the user swallowed, and it caused the brain to cease mental transmissions completely.

Every living creature, subconsciously, emits 'brain-waves' into the atmosphere, much like radio waves, which can be picked up by a select few gifted. Therefore, this pill, dubbed 'Brain-dead', nullifies these transmissions. However, these brain-dead's are still in the experimental stage, and have been known to cause severe side-effects, the most frightening of these is the 'zombification' of the taker, causing his or hers brain to cease all but the most simplistic of functions. Luckily, these symptoms are not contagious.

Hale swallowed the pill and waited for the massive migraine that would inevitably occur. He gritted his teeth and before long, his head felt like it was being torn apart by rusty daggers. He clutched it tightly, and it ebbed away. The process had worked, and he had now effectively 'slipped under the radar' when it came to mental detectors. He gently attempted to pry the door open, but it was shut tight. After a few unsuccessful attempts he gave up and began hacking the lock mechanism that sat to the left of it. He withdrew his PDA and attached it via infra-red to the computerized lock. After a few minutes of frenetic typing, the computer console glowed green, and Raven's door slid open with a whoosh. Hale cringed and ducked in. He was not expecting the sound the door would make when it would open. He glanced at the bed that lay under a large window on the other side of the room and, seeing no movement, proceeded towards her bookcase.

_Hm… I wonder why he would need such a book…_


	3. Rendezvous

**Chapter 2: Rendezvous**

Raven was sleeping peacefully. Her eyelids were shut, covering her mysterious lavender pupils, and her delicate features were at peace. Her violet hair was skewed messily on her gray pillow, creating an obscure star pattern around her head. She was not wearing her deep blue cloak, so her blue-black leotard was clearly visible, accentuating her curves in a flattering manner. She was not hidden under her bed sheets, as it was a fairly warm night, and it caused unnecessary discomfort. Her left hand was placed daintily upon her chest, whilst her right was neatly by her side, and her petit stomach rose and fell delicately, barely betraying the fact that she was indeed still breathing.

In the dark recesses of her mind, a foreign sound pervaded her hearing and awoke her sub-consciousness. It was a sound she had heard so many times before, but never in such a situation. Her mind clicked over as she slept, trying to detect anything abnormal. It found nothing. Before long, it switched off, fell into a peaceful slumber and accompanied the rest of her mind.

"_Raven…"_

…

"_Raven…"_

…_huh?_

"_Raven! Wake up!"_

Her eyes opened with a start and she lifted her body up like lightning, sitting upright in an attempt to figure out what it was exactly that had awoken her. She scanned her room thoroughly, her gaze falling upon the abstract sculptures that littered her shelves; upon the intriguing masks that portrayed humor and tragedy of Classical Greek Theatre, and they finally rested upon her bookshelf. Her treasured bookshelf, groaning under the combined weight of tomes of knowledge regarding the physical and spiritual planes where Raven was brought up.

Raven narrowed her eyes. Something was out of place.

Hale's eyes widened by a factor of ten when he noticed the teenage girl, Raven, sit up abruptly and scan the room. Like a cobra he flicked off the Green luminescent glow of his night vision goggles and pressed his back on the wall of her room. He even ceased to breathe, afraid that his expanding and contracting chest may betray his position to her. He simply stood there, as still as a statue, attempting to soak into the shadows.

Raven lifted her hand and muttered her unique mantra. In a flash, Hale noticed that he was being bound by powerful, obsidian colored forms of energy. He struggled, but he was powerless to resist it. He felt himself being lifted up into the air, his arms tied tightly onto his side and his feet dangling helplessly above her floor, and he knew that he had failed his mission. He felt his body jerk violently to the left, and he slammed into the gray wall, knocking items off a nearby desk. He groaned in pain, and the black bonds around him tightened.

Raven got out of her bed and walked towards this intruder, her eyes blazing red. She closed her hand slightly, and Hale's bonds mimicked her movement, tightening around him some more. She stretched her mouth into a snarl, and with clenched teeth she began to speak.

"No-one…is…allowed…in…my…room!" She said slowly, careful not to let her anger get the better of her. She closed her hand again, and the intruder let out a slight gasp in pain.

"So this is the girl. Not bad…" Hale thought. "If only I was twenty years younger…"

He struggled against his bonds once more, but it was futile. At that precise moment, however, light spilled in from the doorway, and the leader, Robin, ran in, his silver bo-staff extended and ready.

"Raven? Are you-." His masked face turned towards Hale, however, and he stopped short.

"Who… Who are you?" Robin managed to say, before Cyborg and Beast-Boy flocked in and flanked Robin.

Hale tried to reply, but he was rapidly running out of breath, so he gestured towards his throat in a symbol of 'Help me, I'm choking' and Robin turned to Raven.

"Release him Raven."

Raven turned to Robin with slight apprehension, but she lowered her hand and Hale slumped to the floor, gasping for precious oxygen and refilled his lungs.

"Does she do this with all your guests?" Hale choked, rubbing his neck.

"Answer the question." Robin asked coldly, just as Starfire flew in, followed by a hesitant Mark.

"For a bunch of Teenage superheroes, you aren't very social." Hale stood up, and it was clear that he was taller then Cyborg by at least an inch.

Robin's eyes narrowed, and Hale quickly thought to himself that this was not the best way to go about talking himself out of this situation.

"My name is Agent four-oh-three. Anything else I'm afraid I can't tell you." Hale said simply.

"Why are you in our home?" Robin asked.

"That information is classified." Hale replied

"We have the right to know."

Hale rolled his eyes. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Tell us, or we're going to have to call the police to pick you up."

"You think they can keep me in there?"

"It'll give us time to run a background check." Robin turned to Cyborg, and he nodded. Hale noticed this gesture and raised an eyebrow.

"You'll find nothing. If you base your thesis on the facts you find alone, then technically I don't exist." Hale said with a smile.

"Regardless, you're going to go to jail, unless you can provide a reason otherwise."

During this conversation, no-one noticed Hale's hand inching towards his back pocket, his gloved fingers slowly making their way and unfastening the cover. It was his contingency plan, his final, trump card, and he was going to attempt to utilize it with deadly efficiency.

"Like I said before, they can't keep me in. Even if you confiscate my equipment, I am pretty damn resourceful."

"Well, I guess we'll lock you up here. Our security system is 'pretty damn effective'." Robin mocked with a slight grin. Hale returned the grin and replied.

"It sure is. I guess that explains how I entered without much hassle. No smoke, not even any wire-cutters. Just simple thermal goggles, and that's it."

Robin's grin vanished in an instant.

"I'm willing to bet this is the first time you've been caught, four-oh-three. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here sneaking around in our home. I'm sure that you have infiltrated far more dangerous places, and here you are, caught by a group of _teenagers._" Robin said snidely, no longer in the mood for jokes.

That shut Hale up. What Robin had said was true, but it didn't matter. He withdrew a small, cylindrical canister from his back pocket and pulled on the ring, removing the pin as he clutched the lever of the 7290 Stun Grenade. It was quite out-dated when compared to all the other gadgets donned on him, but in a situation such as this, it was more valuable then a diamond mine.

"_Super powered _Teenagers. It doesn't matter, however. I'll be out of here… now." With a flick of his wrist too fast for even Robin to react, Hale threw the Stun grenade and ran towards the window of Raven's room. After one second, Hale was halfway there, his feet pounding on the carpet whilst the Titans' attention was drawn towards the small black cylindrical item that lay inconspicuously at their feet. Exactly half a second after that moment, the grenade exploded in a brilliant flash of light and a deafening noise, effectively blinding and deafening the Titans in one move. Cyborg however, thanks largely to his mechanical features, recovered extremely quickly, his robotic eye negating the effects of the blinding light and his artificial ear dulling the noise that erupted from the grenade. Time seemed to slow down as Cyborg lifted and armed his Sonic Cannon, pointing it towards the fleeing figure of Hale, just as Hale was ready to jump through the glass. Cyborg fired, and Hale jumped. Cyborg's blue sonic beam landed directly on Hale's side, bruising his ribs and forcing him off course, and with a resounding crash, Hale slammed into the wall just beside the window to his freedom and slumped to the ground, knocked out cold by the force of the blast.

Robin blinked once, twice, as his pupils attempted to re-focus after the blast of the flash bang grenade. He gazed around the room and his eyes fell upon the limp form of the black-clad agent that had infiltrated their home with ease. He turned to his robotic comrade who had incapacitated the agent and spoke.

"Cy, disarm him and take this guy to the living room. He'll be up very soon, and I want to be there when he wakes." Cyborg nodded and approached the motionless lump of black. He bent his knees and scooped him up roughly, sharing no pity for the weary agent. He walked out of the room, flanked with Beast-Boy, Starfire and Mark, leaving Raven and Robin behind.

"He broke in. So easily, efficiently. If it wasn't for your telepathy, we would have never caught him. He doesn't seem… evil, though. There's a much larger picture to this, Rae. We just haven't seen it yet." With that, he briskly walked out of the room and followed the others, leaving Raven standing alone attempting to contemplate what Robin had said.

"_It wasn't my telepathy. I detected nothing. Someone-thing did, however, and warned me. There definitely is a larger picture. Much larger then you think."_

Raven cast one last, forlorn look on her room and sighed exasperatedly. "This is messier then Beast-Boy's room. No matter, I'll get Mark to clean it up for me." She said with a smile as she exited her room, her door closing with a quiet hiss.

Hale let out a low groan as he was dropped unceremoniously on the soft sofa. He turned to his side and got comfortable, grabbing a cushion for his head.

"Cy, get some water for this guy." Robin ordered Cyborg. Moments later Cyborg handed him a glass of water and Robin took it slowly, eyeing the agent for any reaction. He was still wearing the Kevlar face mask, so Robin took his free hand and removed it roughly from his face, revealing a man in his forties, with an unshaven granite chin and thick, black hair with streaks of grey running through. An unpleasant scar lay under his left eye that ran all the way down to his chin. Robin clutched the water and splashed it on the agents face, jolting him back to reality. Hale glared at Robin and sat upright, but before he could object to the sudden interruption in his rest, Robin cut him off.

"What is-." Robin began, but he was interrupted as well from wailing klaxons and flashing red lights, signaling that there was unrest in the city.

Robin's eyes narrowed into poisonous slits. He clenched his teeth and grinded them loud enough for everyone to hear. The abrupt wake was taking its toll on him, and he was angry.

"God-Damn-It." He managed to utter through the wall of pearly whites. He ran to the computer and his fingers danced frantically on the keyboard in an attempt to isolate the source of the disturbance. After a few restless minutes of uncomfortable silence, Robin triumphed and barked an order.

"Mark, Starfire and Beast-Boy, go and check out the disturbance. Cy, Rae and me'll watch him-." He jerked his head towards Hale, who hadn't said anything yet. "-Until you get back. Titans, Go!"

Beast-Boy emerged from the Tower first. He was in Bald Eagle form, his keen eyesight allowing him to spot their objective with ease, and in the end they had no need for Robin's co-ordinates. Starfire followed Beast-Boy closely, her slender, orange-skinned body glowing a slight green due to the green balls of energy that enveloped her fists. Mark flew out lastly, and what he saw in Jump City amazed him. Fire roared in a localized area, and it hadn't spread as of yet. He could see flashing blue-red lights a few streets away, but he knew that this event was much more sinister then a simple fire. The trio sped towards the flames, exchanging not a single word during their flight. They landed cautiously in the immediate vicinity of the fire and their jaws dropped even lower when they saw what had actually occurred. A massive crater lay where Harvey St. used to be. The raging fire was contained in the crater, which was roughly three metres deep at its lowest point. It stretched from one side of the street to the other, and upturned cars were strewn haphazardly around the rim. The three of them approached the rim tentatively, when a looming figure appeared from behind the flames that licked the border, silhouetted menacingly in the flickering light of the fire. It was roughly six feet tall, but no distinguishing features were visible, apart from four impossibly long horns that protruded from its skull.


	4. Old Acquaintances

**Chapter 3: Old Acquaintances**

It was as if the creature had been born from the depths of Tartarus. A mere silhouette was visible, but it portrayed a humanoid figure, with four elongated horns that emerged from its forehead. It remained motionless for a moment, adding to the terrifying atmosphere and projecting a calm and cold exterior, quite contrary to its fiery backdrop. Its muscular arms were folded, and no sound was heard, expect for the snapping and crackling of the raging fire behind it, and the distant wailing of police and fire department sirens.

It made a move first, albeit a slightly unexpected one. It unfolded its arms and approached the trio of Titans. As it closed the distance between them, more distinguishing features were visible, such as the distinct lack of demonic wings, and the presence of a brown fur cloak that wrapped around its powerfully built upper body and floated to the ground beside its tree-trunk legs. A large medallion with a pentagram design hung on the centre of its bare chest, and Mark found himself remembering what he had been taught at school regarding that symbol. In mathematics oddly enough. They had been discussing the Greek mathematician Pythagoras, and the reason as to how the conversation turned from Pythagoras' Theorem to the Pentagram escaped him. There were numerous theories as to where the Pentagram came from, but it is widely accepted that, throughout the ages, it had been regarded as a myriad of different symbols. The Pythagoreans called it the 'Pentalpha', as it resembled five capital 'A's interconnected. Celtic priests called it 'The Witches Foot', it has been called 'Solomon's Seal', and during the Middle Ages, it was regarded as 'The Goblin's cross'. It was never revered more-so, however, then in the mystical Druidic culture, who regarded it as 'The God's Head.' They believed it would guard them from Demons of the deep.

"_A Druid…"_

A Druid with red skin. Red skin that reminded Mark of Trigon.

"Aah!" Mark clutched his head as the thought of Raven's father caused Mark's head to explode in pain yet again.

"_Am I some sort of twisted, American McGee version of Harry Potter?"_

Mark clenched his fist and punched the ground beneath him with gritted teeth. The thin layer of skin that lay on his knuckles split open instantly, spilling red blood on the asphalt. With a distinct look of pain upon his face he looked up. The red figure stood right in front of them now, and he cast a concerned gaze towards Mark, who was still on the ground.

"Are you alright, young hero?" He asked slowly.

Mark raised an eyebrow and replied, leaning back into a kneeling position.

"I'm fine. Who are you?"

The figure stepped back and looked at the other two Teenagers, a mixture of surprise and caution mingled on their faces.

"I am Ragnarus, Herder of Mother Nature herself. She does my bidding, and I tend to Her."

Mark tilted his head to the left, gazing around the towering Ragnarus and to the blazing inferno which was now being slowly put out by the collection of Fire Trucks from various districts of the City. He pulled himself to his feet and proceeded to speak.

"Did you… do this?" Mark asked in a disbelieving tone.

Ragnarus' eyes flashed quickly as he replied.

"I would never do such a thing. Never before have I seen such blatant disregard for human life, and I intend to punish those responsible."

His hand moved almost involuntarily towards a magnificent sword sheathed around his waist, but he made no attempt to withdraw it. It was clear to the Trio of Titans that Ragnarus, although demonic in appearance, was not evil. Mark opened his mouth once more to introduce himself, but he was abruptly cut off.

"I don't know who you are, but no-one's gonna spoil my fun!" A strange, almost metallic voice was heard, and the trio and Ragnarus turned to face the source of it. A small, diminutive figure emerged from the darkness, and upon closer inspection, it looked like Robin. Starfire briskly flew towards him, intent on asking the first question.

"Robin? Why are you here? Were you not supposed to be looking after the intruder? What do you mean when you said 'Fun'?"

Robin opened his mouth to speak.

"Starfire… I'm so sorry… please help me…" He said in a tortured voice, extending his arms out in a gesture of affection. Starfire approached him and slowed down.

"Why are you sorry?" She asked curiously.

"_Something is not right…"_

That precise moment, Robin's whole personality changed. His masked eyes narrowed in hatred, and he smiled evilly as he replied.

"Psyche!" He swiped the air, and Starfire was flung backwards, smashing into the brick wall on the other side of the street and slumping to the ground, motionless. Beast-Boy ran to help Starfire while 'Robin' approached Mark, who still had no idea why he had attacked her. As he approached, however, a startling thing happened. He morphed, and within a split-second, Raven was standing right where Robin was only moments ago.

Despite himself, Mark's features softened, and in that short period of time, 'Raven' grew sad, and slowed her approach towards a very confused Mark.

"Mark… please help me… he's getting stronger… My father is winning!"

Mark's eyes widened in shock.

"_No…"_

Raven grinned, her eyes turning a bright crimson and she spoke again.

"Psyche!" She struck, in much the same way he/she/it attacked Starfire, simply by swiping the air in front of it and Mark was flung of his feet.

But it was no longer Mark.

Mark had lost control in mere moments, and Crow took over. Anger coursed through his veins, and rage consumed him at being so easily duped. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, feeling the flames travel their way up from his hands to his arms and reaching his torso. His hair brightened tremendously, and when he opened his eyes, they were once again, pitch black.

Crow straightened himself out from his current, involuntary, trajectory and flung himself towards his adversary. It was at that moment, however, out of the corner of his eye he spotted Ragnarus charging towards the unknown enemy as well, his sword withdrawn and hatred etched upon his face. Crow narrowed his eyes and increased his speed, determined to destroy him first, but it was to no avail.

Ragnarus swung swiftly, but the figure dodged the blade and landed a hard kick to his exposed side. Ragnarus exhaled quickly, and using his right hand he grabbed the figure's foot and lifted him into the air and slammed him into the ground with brutal velocity. He repeated this movement and slammed him into the asphalt yet again, this time cracking under the force of the impact. He released his foot and stepped back, hardly out of breath, and examined the disturbed dust and dirt that had risen and obscured his view. There was silence for a second, and then a dark lump of mass emerged from the dust cloud and struck Ragnarus on his chest, sending him stumbling back and causing him to drop his sword. Crow saw this as an opportunity to strike, and he sped towards the figure that had fired that projectile and was still enveloped in dust. His fists blazed with fury and flames and his hair was a blinding white. He sped like a comet and smashed into the figure, driving him into the ground once more. The figure recovered quickly, however, and he was up first and rammed a fist into Crow's nose, blinding him with tears.

"Trust me, never mess with Psyche." It said in the same metallic voice he had first spoken in, and drove his fist into Crow's nose once again. Crow's head snapped back, then rolled forward lazily, hanging limply. The creature, Psyche, cocked its head to the left, unsure as to whether Crow was unconscious or not. He wasn't.

In a mere iota of a second, Crow had reared his hand back and punched Psyche in it's chest, the flames on his fist doing no damage to its metallic armor. The pain, however, somehow registered in its mind, perhaps it was still human underneath the metal plates, and it let go of Crow with a heavy gasp. Crow lifted his knee up and struck, striking it in the head with size 10 shoes. Psyche stumbled back, clutching its face in agony. It lowered its hands slowly, and Crow gasped in surprise when he saw its face. It was… _smiling._

With a sadistic grin, it spoke once again.

"Psyche!"

A dark red figure raised its arms in the background, its massive fists clenched and bathed in blue. Its eyes darkened until they matched the blue on his hands. He muttered a mantra more ancient then the world he walked on, and behind him, a green cloud was forming. His adversary, Psyche, turned around to identify the source of the disturbance, but in the time it took for this new threat to register in its half robotic mind, it was far too late. The green cloud headed towards it with a reckless abandon, weaving and swerving in the air as if it was avoiding unseen obstacles that lay in its path.

"Oh S-." He began, but he never managed to finish that statement.

The green cloud pummeled his metallic chest, tearing the armour into ribbons and entering its body with almost no loss in speed. Psyche hunched over, his lungs no longer functioning, as the green cloud entered its chest and burst through its back, shredding its skeletal structure and breaking its spine.

The green mass of death was not through with it, however. The cloud parted in two and did a U-turn in midair, re-entering Psyche's now shredded body through its side and exiting through the front. With one final U-turn and entry, the cloud slowed down and fell to the road, redder now then green.

Crow could only watch this slaughter take place with a limp jaw and saddened eyes. He had seen death before, but this was just so brutal and reckless, it shocked even him.

"_So this is what he meant 'They do my bidding.' He controls plants…"_

"You killed him."

Ragnarus walked towards the now unrecognizable form of Psyche that lay motionless on the road.

"He deserved to be punished for what he attempted to do. He could have killed an innocent."

Crow smiled coldly, and then raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I get it. So you kill, in order to prove to others that it's wrong to kill. I get that."

"Do not question my methods of dealing with villains. I have been doing this for much longer then you."

With that, Ragnarus spun quickly and walked away, his cloak billowing in the wind, until all that remained of him was a darkened silhouette beyond the yellow embers of the fire.

Crow watched him go, still wary of what was yet to come. He sighed and his hair darkened, reverting back to its original black color, and the flames dissipated on his arms and body. His eyes turned back to sky blue, and he turned to Beast-Boy as he spoke.

"Come on dude. We gotta take her back to the Tower quickly." Beast-Boy said. He motioned towards Starfire, and Mark nodded sadly. He gently picked up Starfire, and with a final glance towards the robotic body which was once human and lay still in a small crater, he lifted off and followed Beast-Boy back home.


	5. Broken

**Chapter 4: Broken**

"Who sent you?" The demand reverberated through the otherwise silent living room, Cyborg and Raven standing still and somber. Hale remained impassive, his weathered and stubble-covered chin making no movement to signal that he was about to speak. Robin looked upon his determined face and sighed wearily.

"Either you talk, or Raven gets her revenge on you for snooping in her room."

"That information is classified."

Robin raised his eyebrow and spoke once more. "So be it."

He then turned to Raven and nodded. Raven removed the hood from her head, revealing her short purple hair and a pair of azure eyes that lay upon an ashen face.

"This is for breaking into my room."

She grinned malevolently as her eyes turned crimson and her blue cloak became bathed in shadow. She seemed to grow taller, and from underneath her cloak, black tendrils seeped through, hugging the floor and heading towards Hale. Hale's eyes widened tremendously. "This is no superhero, this is a demon!" Hale thought to himself as he attempted to evade the tendrils. He leapt on the sofa and propelled himself into the air, the tentacles barely missing his ankles as he tucked his feet in. He landed on the carpeted floor and rolled instinctively to the right, and the tentacles once again missed their mark.

"Stop moving, foolish boy!" Raven growled in a voice that was not her own as more tentacles escaped from beneath her and sped towards Hale. One tentacle found Hale's left ankle and latched on with amazing strength, whipping him off balance and throwing him towards a nearby wall. Another tentacle wound its way around Hale's right leg, and another two grabbed his arms. Hale struggled desperately, but the bonds were like a vice, and no matter how he squirmed he could not free himself. He was being pulled to the ground, dragged towards something so dark light could not illuminate its black recesses.

"No!" Hale yelled as he felt himself move closer towards it, towards what could very well be his sanity's final resting place. Fear gripped him as the black wall approached, and he thrashed like a wild animal, the shadow tendrils never relinquishing. With a final cry, he entered, and he didn't hear Robin's pleads for Raven to stop, only Raven's sadistic laughter.

He saw something in there he wished he never would again. This was no flashback, no memory. He was re-enacting the death of his daughter all over again, and no matter how tightly he tried to shut his eyes, they would not close.

"_Daddy look at me! I'm a bird!"_

_Honey, be careful. These streets are dangerous, don't wander too far!_

"_I'm not worried! I can fly away from danger!"_

_I know you can Amy, but stay close. The sooner we leave the better._

"_Hey sweetie, come and see my toys. I have plenty over here."_

"_My daddy says I shouldn't talk to strangers!"_

"_You're 'daddy' doesn't love you. Now get over here!"_

"_No! Let me go! DADDY!"_

_Honey? AMY? Where are you!_

I was running, my feet aching with each step I took, and my head throbbed in anger and hopelessness. Where are you? Over and over again, I yelled. Where are you? Where are you?

_Where are you…_

_No… Amy!_

I saw them. I saw the monsters that had my baby. My daughter. My angel. They were doing unspeakable things, and in an instant I forgot who I was. Greg Hale, LAPD Police officer, was gone, blinded by rage, by hatred, until he, I, turned into something I wish I never will again. My skin burned, and the alleyway I stood in was illuminated in a brilliant light, my light. The light came from me. I saw these monsters' skin boil and seethe. Their flesh came apart slowly, torturously, peeling apart piece by piece, this was better illuminated with the light that emanated from my body.

_Amy… She would still be with me if I hadn't…_

She was gone now. Gone thanks to me, and these wretched powers of mine. She died in the same way her tormentors did. She didn't deserve that kind of death. _No-one did._

Hale gasped as he was pulled out from his horrifying ordeal. His eyes looked around madly at each of the Titan's faces, until they landed on Raven's. She was _crying. _Her head was cradled in her delicate palms and her body shuddered with each sob. Tears seeped through her fingers and fell to the ground below, melting away into nothing. Hale's cloud grey eyes regained their focus and composure, but his heart was still beating madly.

"What the HELL was that?" Hale asked angrily, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. No-one answered, and Raven turned and buried her face in Mark's shoulder, who had arrived along with Starfire and Beast-Boy moments ago. Mark was slightly taken aback at this sudden gesture, but he raised his arms and hugged Raven tightly, holding her close as she continued to cry.

* * *

The fire was long gone, and all that remained was a small figure, barely recognizable now that his intestines had been shredded to oblivion. His final resting place was a small crater in a once busy street.

"Your time in this world is not yet through, pawn. Your holographic properties will be of some value to me. Rise, _Hak'tir'a, _for that is your true name. Rise, and obey your true master _Chron'ita'r._" A red aura enveloped a foreign figure's pale fist, growing in intensity until it submerged all of Psyche's body in crimson. Shattered bone and torn flesh were being resurrected, rejuvenated, and the metallic fragments that lay scattered and broken on the street around him rose and fell into place on Psyche's body.

The figure that had been kneeling moments ago rose to its feet and gazed towards the Titans' Tower.

"Soon, Titans. Very soon."

* * *

"It-It was horrible. What they did to the girl… What he did to them… and his daughter…" Raven spoke between sobs. Mark looked at the kneeling figure of Hale with pitying eyes.

"Raven, what happened?" Mark asked cautiously.

Raven shook her head vigorously as she freed herself from Mark's comforting grip.

"I-I have to go." She levitated away and sank through the living room wall, disappearing in an instant. Mark watched her go and sighed inwardly.

"_It's happening again. Something is going to happen. Why do I feel like I'm powerless to stop it?"_

"Because you are." Mark told himself sadly and slumped into a chair.

"What-What do you want to know?" Hale muttered through clenched teeth, the memory of his loss still burned into his mind. Robin seemed distracted, and didn't hear Hale when he spoke.

"My name is Greg Hale, Agent number 4-0-3 of the National Security Agency's Covert Ops and Experimental Weapons Division. My mission was to find a book entitled _Chronicles of Zarlon. _Anything else I do not know." He said sadly and with great effort lifted himself up off his knees and stood erect. Robin raised an eyebrow and turned to face the agent.

"Why?" Was all he said.

"I don't know. I'm a grunt. I do my mission, retrieve the package, that's all. My superiors decide what to do with it."

Robin eyed the agent for a moment, trying to determine whether or not he was lying. He quickly abandoned the attempt, as he knew that it would be impossible.

"Why would the NSA, of all agencies, organize an infiltration of our home, just to steal a book? It doesn't make any sense." Robin thought out loud as he paced the room.

"Hale! What the hell is going on?" Hale's microphone crackled to life in his ear, and he heard the voice of his superior.

"Everything's fine and dandy here, sir." Hale said, making no attempt to conceal his voice. Robin turned and gazed at him curiously.

"What did you say?" Robin asked as he walked towards the agent.

"Have you reached the objective or not?"

"That's a negative, sir. I'm just having a chat with Robin."

"What the Hell?" Robin exclaimed to no-one in particular. He hated not knowing everything about a situation, and that is exactly what was happening now.

"You… You what?"

"Sorry sir, gotta run, talk later." Without waiting to hear the cries of protest from his superior Hale unplugged the microphone from his ear and laid it on the table in front of him.

"Who was that?" Robin asked, still fuming in anger.

"That was my superior." Hale replied simply.

Robin slumped slightly and turned to Cyborg.

"Cy, take this guy into the cells and lock him up. We'll keep him there until we find out what exactly is going on."

Cyborg nodded and turned to the agent. For a moment Hale thought about fighting his way out, but he soon realized that fighting was out of the question when it came to the imposing, metallic figure of Cyborg. Hale resigned to his fate and allowed Cyborg to take him to his prison cell.

"Is this even legal?" Hale asked him, but he received no reply.


	6. Repercussions

**Chapter 5: Repercussions**

"Raven?" Mark timidly whispered as he rapped sharply on her darkened door. The knocks were loud and abrupt, but not a sigh was heard on the other side.

"Rae please…" Mark begged silently as he hung his head sadly. "Don't do this to yourself. After what you went through…"

Silently, the door slid open on its wheels, gliding effortlessly on a pillow of air and revealed a hooded and cloaked Raven, her azure eyes slightly red and puffed.

"Rae this isn't like you. I-."

"No you're right, this isn't like me. I nearly killed him Mark. Don't you understand? I'm still losing control of my power. I made him re-live his worst memories, and they were more sinister, more frightening then any nightmare either of us could ever have."

"Could you at least-."

"Please, just leave me alone. I've had enough pity for today."

The door slid shut in front of Mark and cut his view of Raven off, leaving him standing once more alone, outside and helpless.

_All I know..._

_Time is a valuable thing…_

A sharp knock perforated the sullen mood that hung like a storm cloud in the skies above over the Tower and reached Robin's ears as he sat dejectedly on the living-room couch. With a heavy and sigh and equally heavy heart after witnessing Raven's loss of control he pushed himself out of his comfortable groove and proceeded towards the main door.

_Watch it fly by as the Pendulum Swings…_

Starfire turned briskly, her attention now diverted from recovering after her run-in with the false Robin to the door and the chance to greet a new friend. She promptly got up and exited her room, following the well-worn path to the front entrance.

_Watch it count down to the end of the day…_

Beast-Boy's elfish ears almost pricked up at the sound of the loud and abrupt knocking. He grinned his trademark grin and jumped out of his bed and into the hall, any plan to disrupt the day-to-day goings of his fellow Titans long forgotten.

_The clock ticks life away…_

Cyborg lifted his half mechanical head from locking Hale's cell and looked towards the source of the noise in the distance. His sonic receptors examined the noise sub-consciously, scanning for any perceivable threat. Finding none, he replaced the cover on the keypad that activated the locking mechanism in the room and briskly headed out.

_It's so unreal…_

_Didn't look out below…_

Mark didn't even notice the knocking of the front door. He was wallowing in his own thoughts, the rain his only friend now. Rain doesn't mock you, doesn't reject you, he surmised. He closed his eyes and sighed despondently and he leant his forehead on the cold panel of glass, fogging it instantly in the immediate area surrounding the contact of his warm skin.

"_Azarath…Metrion…Zinthos…"_

No noise. No disturbances, no unnecessary attachments in Raven's place of meditation. Her physical surroundings melted away, turning into a myriad of foreign colours and strange geometric shapes. Her ashen eyelids were shut tight, severing herself from invasions of light and sound…

The knocking of the door was lost on her ears. The noise simply washed over her tumultuously and disappeared. All she heard was her own voice, muttering her unique mantra over and over again, never faltering, never failing, always precise.

"_Azarath…Metrion…Zinthos…"_

Over and over again, she droned, determined to keep her emotions in check. Determined to…-

"_You know you'll fail."_

Robin opened the door hesitatingly, unsure of what to find in the black backdrop of the island. His masked eyes spotted two figures, but due to the angle he stood he could not make out any distinguishing features.

"It appears you hold the most sway in this town, am I correct?"

Robin spun quickly and faced the figure that had just spoken.

"And you are?" He asked abruptly, in no mood to play games.

"Chronis. Pleasure to meet such fine young specimens such as yourselves."

"Specimens?" Robin raised an eyebrow as he cautiously readied himself.

"But of course, you are easily manipulated into useful situations that would benefit me and my business partners, so yes, you are specimens. Or at least, the one you call Mark is."

"What do you want with Mark?"

"You do not understand, child, there are some matters that you should not involve yourself with, for the good of your well-being and that of your lady-friend."

"Anything that involves Mark or any of the Titans involves all of us. We're a team, just in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh I've noticed, and I'm sure you've noticed my Nuisance Removal Specialist here to my left."

"What are you talking about?"

"A simple task, Robin. Bring Mark here, and I will not kill you."

"Robin man, is everything ok? Who is this guy?" Cyborg asked slowly as he approached the door.

"Stay back, everything's fine." Robin warned.

"You are aware that everything is not fine? Bring Mark to me now, or I will retrieve him myself."

'You are not taking him." Robin growled, leaning back on his rear leg as he extended his arms out in anticipation of what was inevitably going to occur. And he stayed that way. In fact, the whole tower simply froze in the clutches of time, not a living thing moving, except for the dark figure in the doorway, his associate, Mark and Raven, and- strangely enough- Hale.

"Get him. Kill her and their prisoner."

The creature nodded and lunged inside, dodging the frozen figures of Robin and the rest of the Titans that lay in its way. Chronis leisurely waltzed inside, and the phosphorescent lighting of the main entrance room revealed him to be wearing a black rain-coat, complete with hood and black, heavy-duty boots. A black belt was strapped to his waist, and a glittering sword hung inconspicuously on his left.

"You fool Robin. How can you possibly hope to compete with the master of time?"

"He has some help, Chronis."

Chronis snapped his head around, looking for the source of the arrogant voice. His face curled up into a snarl as he spat the next words out.

"Demetrus! Do not meddle in my affairs! You have no authority here, by the laws of your pathetic code."

"Quite on the contrary, Chronis. The Teen Titans are my authority. Now, as their guardian angel, I'm sure you understand the fact that I simply cannot allow you to hurt any one of them?"

Chronis smiled a twisted grin.

"I'm not the one harming them, Demetrus. Psyche is."

A flash of light erupted directly in front of Chronis, blinding him temporarily and causing him to stumble back and shield his eyes. Once the light dissipated, another figure stood where thin air had been only moments ago. This figure, however, was dressed in a robe, coloured in a mixture of grays and whites, and brown sandles. His face was similar to Hale's, wizened, weathered and covered in short, graying hairs that complimented the thick black mop of hair he had on his head.

"'Psyche' has already been taken care of, Chronis. I think it's time for you to leave."

"I think you underestimate the strength of my associate, Demetrus."

"I think you should start running, before I declare you guilty of breaching the Lucifer contract. You and your sickening brethren were allowed to roam this planet, but I have been granted authority to banish you back to Hell if you step one toe out of line."

Chronis scowled and was about to retort, but a muffled explosion rocked the tower and blew scattered pieces of what appeared to be metal mingled with dead flesh all over the room.

"Now that my friend, is your cue to leave. If you do not comply, my superior will have a word."

The colour drained from Chronis' face at the mere thought of such an occurrence happening.

"This isn't over. I will get Mark, and I will kill you, and make sure your ashes are fed to the languishing demons of Hell. Mark my words, Demetrus. Mark them well."

Demetrus didn't bother replying, instead he simply erupted into a flash of light and disappeared.

_This is my December…_

Rain.

Dark, ominous clouds rolled in from the east, bringing forth a spectacular torrent of rain that spilt from the heavens above, accompanied by Mother Nature's music as thunder rumbled through the skies and lightening struck distant plains and scorched the earth below.

_This is my snow-covered home…_

Mark gazed outside his window absent-mindedly, the soft patter of water droplets striking his window doing little to calm his troubled mind. He may have seemed calm on the exterior, but beneath the coral blue eyes and pale skin, a storm even mightier then the one that danced to the tune of the dreamlands in front of his saddened eyes could ever hope to be seethed and raged.

_This is my December…_

"Why does she do this?" Mark asked despairingly to the night outside, as if hoping for an answer from the merciless lightening. He received none.

_This is me alone…_

Lightening flashed once more, and his still figure was silhouetted against the large window of his room. His whole bedroom was bathed in an eerie white glow, and strangely stayed that way.

_This is my December…_

Mark noticed this peculiar event and raised an eyebrow cautiously. He stood up and examined the night more thoroughly. There was no mistaking it, lightening had frozen in mid-strike.

Mark cautiously walked out of his room and proceeded down the corridor, silence being his only companion.

A shadow flickered, and out of the corner of his eye, something that didn't belong shot past and disappeared once more into the shadows. Mark's heart rate quickened as he crept at an almost stagnant rate towards the source of the disturbance.

A strange, metallic noise pulsated from the darkness, almost like someone-or something's- breathing that came to them in short, ragged breaths.

Mark's face paled tremendously once he realized what the noise was.

"Psyche." Was all he heard, and it lunged.

Raven opened her eyes abruptly.

"Mark…"

She jumped out of her bed and materialized through her bedroom wall, her cloak billowing and fluttering behind her. She levitated down the corridor, scanning for any sight of Mark, but she found none.

"There we are." Hale exclaimed as he stood up, now outside the prison that had held him only moments ago. "I didn't even need a spoon." He chuckled as he silently swung the door open, checking for any Titans. Seeing that the coast was clear, he swung the door fully open and crept outside, the carpeted floor betraying no noise of his movement.

"Now, all I need is…Wait. What the Fu-." A large mass of grey sped around the corner and knocked him square in the chin, snapping his head back as he tilted at an obscure angle, before falling on his back with a dull thud.

Hale groaned and pulled himself back up, rubbing his head in pain as he did so.

"I am up to here-." He gestured with his hand to his neck "With these god-damned Teen Superheroes and their whacked-out funhouse they call home. Who the hell lives in a giant 'T' anyway? I mean, what is the point!" He fumed as he searched for the unknown adversary.

His search didn't last long, and the foreign figure attacked again, but this time Hale was ready. He grabbed the lunging hand and struck with his own arm, latching on to the creature's throat in a vice-like grip.

"What the fuck are you? Some sort of Teen Titans watchdog?" Hale exclaimed as he watched the creature thrash wildly and claw at his extended arm. He gripped its throat tighter, causing the creature to thrash even more, and slammed it into the wall of the corridor.

"Will you-." Hale started as he rammed his fist into its face "-stop-" smashed its face again "-fucking-." and again "-MOVING?" He punched it a final time, and the creature became limp, its arms falling to its sides as its head lolled lazily to its left.

Hale examined the creature again to confirm its status before tossing it behind him and walking towards his freedom.

The creature was not finished, however. It growled slowly as it got to its feet once more and screamed an ungodly yell as it lunged towards Hale, its teeth bared and arms extended yet again in an attempt to tear open some messy holes. Hale however, was prepared. He never had intended to use his concealed grenade that he had hidden in his back pocket, but as the creature recovered so effortlessly from an attack that would have killed a normal human being, Hale could see he had no choice. Hale spun, the pin pulled and the lever held down as he aimed for his target. He found it, and he threw. The momentum at which the creature was traveling meant that even if it tried, it could not pull away from its current velocity. Its teeth were still bared, and that was the last mistake it would ever make. The grenade found its target, right between the creature's lips, and it instinctively swallowed the high-powered explosive. Within three seconds, the grenade exploded, and so did it, scattering the corridor and Hale with sickening amounts of metal and decayed or decaying flesh.

Hale screwed up his nose at the awful stench that followed and shook his arms and hands clean of the grey substance.

"The things I do…" Hale muttered as he approached a nearby window and broke it, allowing him to fling himself into freedom once more. He had a strange feeling though, that he would be back soon enough.


	7. Melissa

**Chapter 6: Melissa**

The darkness simply caused the well-built figure to emanate a menacing aura as it leant casually on a dull gray, rusted street lamppost, its warming yellow luminescence bathing the street in a vibrant shine, but avoiding the figure entirely, as if the yellow rays seemed afraid to illuminate him. He remained motionless, his grey robe fluttering pathetically in the small breeze that blew in the early hours of the morning. With a slight sigh towards the future events that still remained hazy in Demetrus' mind, he closed his eyes as he slunk into the shadows and allowed the darkness to envelop him as he disappeared.

A disgraced yet powerful figure entered the elegant boardroom with the fury of Cerberus unleashed. His face was contorted in rage and anger as his fellow partners looked upon him with great trepidation and anxiety. Chronis was not the one to lose his temper, and the fact that he was now angrier then anyone in that room could ever be frightened them even more. With a silent grace he lowered himself into his seat and remained silent, still seething in fury. Everyone that sat at the overwhelming mahogany table cautiously gazed at Chronis in silence as they awaited his next move. For a moment the only sound that could be heard were his angry huffs at the end of the polished table, but before long realization dawned upon him and he lifted his head to address his 'business' partners.

"We have a problem."

"Was it worth waking us up at three in the morning? What were you doing so early Chronis?"

Only three other men in this world had the ability to talk to Chronis like that and escape with their heads still attached to their necks. The one that had spoken was named _Firac'ti'a._

Murmurs of approval rippled through the otherwise silent boardroom, and an elderly gentleman with thinning white hair and soulless blue eyes that lay behind black framed glasses raised his voice to be heard yet again.

"What kind of problem?"

Chronis banged his fist on the table to get everyone's attention. It worked, and everyone ceased talking. For the time being, anyway.

"There is a third party involved."

"Surely we can rid ourselves of this… this _third party_?"

Chronis glared at the balding man, and spoke a simple two words.

"It's Demetrus."

Silence befell the boardroom once again, and everyone who had been trying to have their voices heard moments ago simply slunk back into their seats and looked forlornly towards Chronis. The atmosphere in the intimidating carpeted room switched from annoyance to melancholy in a heartbeat.

Everyone had heard of Demetrus.

The one who defied Heaven to protect his subjects.

The one who had been sent to protect Alexander The Great himself, but defied his orders and protected Alexander from the Reaper when he was thirty-three years old.

-----------------------------------------------------------

INTERLUDE: Death, or something like it.

"You will not take him."

"You dare defy what is to be inevitable?"

"You will not take him!"

I do not know why I stood against the force of death that had manifested itself into a humanoid form. Perhaps it was my pride towards my long-lost heritage of the Hellenic race. Perhaps I was just foolish and blind, I would never know.

"Do you not understand my role in this world? There is nothing, _nothing _that can stand against me. I do not say this out of arrogance, but out of experience. Child, by willingly planting yourself between me and my subject, you have forfeited your right of passage into the kingdom of Heaven, and your immunity to me. Step aside or I will claim you as well."

"Alexander is destined for great things! Why take him at such a young age?"

"Everyone has a purpose, a meaning to their existence. Alexander has outlived his purpose, and if he were to remain on this physical plane, it would bring about the imbalance of both our worlds."

"He only wishes for good! He is an honest, decent man who spreads the word of God!"

My pleas were meaningless. You cannot bargain with the Reaper.

"He is also an alcoholic, a wife-beater and a homosexual. But these are the choices he made, and I was not sent here to claim him because of these petty matters. Come, child. I will show you what would become of this planet if I were to allow him to continue existing in this realm."

At that moment, my eyes finally opened. I was witnessing The Butterfly Effect. Such a small change in history, and I saw barbarians rampaging across Asia. I saw The Mongols successfully invade Japan. I saw Attila the Hun demolish what remained of the Coliseum. I saw Alexander go insane; losing his mind the further he progressed into Asia. I saw Adolph Hitler twist Europe into his own sick ideals. I saw… death. Always there, cold, calculating, emotionless.

I saw things that should never have been, and I conceded.

"Now do you see child? Stand aside, and allow me to take my subject."

I saw, and I wept.

END INTERLUDE

----------------------------------------------------------

Demetrus was no angel, yet he was no demon either. He still received assignments from the agents of Heaven, and offers from the servants of Hell, as they believed that they could turn him to the darkness.

The balding man stood silently for a moment as he contemplated this drastic change in events. He ran a wrinkled hand through his wispy white hair before finally speaking up again.

"Demetrus? Why would Demetrus bother himself with these teenagers?" He scoffed, trying to convince himself more-so then the others.

"Why don't you ask _me _that?" An arrogant voice emanated from a previously overlooked corner of the room. Everyone's head snapped towards the source of the voice, and a familiar grey cloaked, powerful yet casual figure appeared, this time lacking the brilliant flash of light that first accompanied him and almost blinded Chronis.

"Hope I'm not crashing the party. I'm just warning you all that if you so much as lay a finger on any of the Titans, I will turn you _all _into ash."

"You have no authority in this room, you _clipped _angel!" Chronis spat.

Demetrus' face contorted in anger and hatred as he withdrew his curved sword and lunged at Chronis, gripping his head and exposing his neck as he placed his sharpened blade upon it.

"Go ahead! Kill me! Break the contract, then in exactly six days all Hell will break loose. Literally." Chronis said smugly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down his throat with every syllable spoken. Demetrus could have easily sliced his jugular, spilling what little blood that ran in this Demon's veins and killing him once and for all, but he knew that Chronis' words had merit, so he simply scowled and pushed him away, walking back into the corner of the room he had been moments ago.

"Somehow Chronis, I think Hell is going to break loose regardless. I'll be watching you. All of you, mark my words." With that warning he disappeared into the shadows.

"You are nothing! You are A Fallen Angel! Nothing better then Lucifer himself! DO YOU HEAR ME!" Chronis screamed angrily into the air, whirling around to spot any sign of Demetrus. He found none, and he slowly relaxed his hands, as they were tensed into fists so tightly his knuckles had turned a pasty white.

There was more silence, before Chronis cleared his throat as he adjusted his tie and spoke up.

"Do you see our problem now?" He stated.

"Let us not concern ourselves with such matters at the present time. There are more pressing issues to attend to. Such as the presence of the European girl." A heavily South-African accented voice spoke through a dark face and a row of pearly white teeth.

"You are quite correct, as always. Yes, Melissa, she is on her way to the tower as we speak. She wishes to join the Titans, but Robin will refuse. Mark however, will not, and will persuade Robin to allow her to try herself out. He will be smitten by her beauty, in the same way as that Beast-Boy was with the traitor Terra. Her future is uncertain, but I am sure that we can convince her to see the darkness and work for us. She will most likely be a valuable asset, but a disposable one at best." Chronis spoke slowly and clearly, describing the above scenario with absolutely no emotion.

"That is all well and good, but how could be possibly convince her to join us?"

"She is confused, vulnerable, helpless at the present time. She can be easily manipulated to our cause. There is no need to intercept her at the moment, let her meet the Titans first."

A few of the demons and their imps expressed concern regarding this decision, but decided not to voice their opinion.

"Very well. Now what about Ragnarus?"

"Bah! That bumbling fool has no idea we are even gathered in this city. It was by sheer coincidence he showed up at the same time we did." Chronis said angrily.

"I do not like putting such an occurrence to mere coincidence, _Chroni't'r. _He must be eliminated. We will put this off no longer! He has killed three of our brothers already, I do not wish to lose any more." The balding man spoke up once again, his face angered.

"Yes, but it took him three thousand five hundred years to accomplish this. In six days, the rest of our brethren will be released, and we will mourn for our losses no longer!"

There was a slight murmur of approval, accompanied by plenty of nodding as this fact sunk in.

"The coming of The Cross is almost at hand, and I must prepare. Farewell, dear brothers and fellow comrades." Chronis said calmly, stood up and walked out of the room.

Robin paced the living room restlessly, shutting out all external disturbances as he thought about all the events that had occurred and lead up to this point in time.

_They are connected somehow… I know it._

_First there was Hale. The agent who had managed to break in and break out of the Titan's Tower._

Hale. Who was he? Why was he after a book, of all things?

_Next, there was Ragnarus. The Demon-character, who ruthlessly dispatched Psyche, according to Mark and Beast-Boy. _

Why did he have the characteristics of a modern-day Demon? If he really is a Demon, why did he fight and destroy Psyche? Aren't Demons evil?

_Thirdly, there was Chronis. The character who had somehow managed to…_

…Slow time. That's impossible, but both Mark and Raven strongly believe that that is indeed what had happened. How can he slow time? How does his presence in Jump City affect all the other occurrences?

_Why do I have a feeling that one of us is going to get killed?_

There was a knock. Yet another knock on the Tower's front door. Robin broke free of his train of thought and switched on the entrance camera. He was taking no chances this time, and he pressed the intercom button as he spoke.

"Who is it?"

A bubbly, feminine, tanned face spoke from the other side, her dark, curly hair bobbed as she chewed on gum and spoke.

"Hi! I'm Melissa!" She said cheerily, waving into the camera and grinning playfully.

"And you want…what?" Robin snapped, clearly in no mood to talk to someone who was in a much better mood then he was.

"Um… Food and water? Please?" She said again, flashing another smile.

"Do you have a watch?" Robin asked bluntly.

"Yeah… Why?" She inquired cautiously.

"Can you please tell me what time it is?" Robin asked, the sarcasm clearly evident in his voice.

"Um… ok let me check. It's… 3.43 am!" Melissa replied, evidently not recognizing Robin's tone of voice.

Robin sighed exasperatedly and asked Melissa to stay where she was as he proceeded towards the front door. He reached the door and opened it, revealing a girl in her mid to late teens, with a dark blue top with a turtleneck collar that was extended to its full length, protecting her neck and chin area from the biting cold wind that occupied the island. She wore black jeans that complimented her fit form and her jovial curls swayed in the breeze and obscured her view, hiding a set of deep hazel eyes. Robin couldn't help but grin slightly at her joyful disposition. It reminded him of Starfire, but he could tell that although she may have been a lot of things, naïve was certainly not one of them. Robin stepped lightly to one side and beckoned for her to come in.

Melissa entered and gazed in wonderment at the high walls and luxurious furniture, soaking every detail in as she advanced into the kitchen and living area.

Robin scratched his head slightly and cocked it to one side as he examined the newcomer more thoroughly. He didn't know what to think anymore, and with a final shrug he followed and directed her to the rest of the Titans.


End file.
